The Perks of Being Clara
by E.I.Cochrane
Summary: A series of un-related oneshots of Sherlock's daughter Clara Holmes.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello Everyone! **

**This is just a little intro to my new story- The Perks of Being Clara! **

**A series of unrelated one-shots following Clara's life from Baby to Teen to Adult. **

**First chapter will be within the following weeks. **

**Please message me if you have suggestions, questions or such and such! **


	2. 1 Taken Away

Mycroft got out the car. He looked around the quiet, dark, lighted street. What he was about to do would be something he'd never had thought or hoped he'd ever have to do.

He closed the car door and walked over to the black door which read the number 25.

He knocked on the door.

No reply.

He rang the doorbell.

No reply.

He sighed somehow he thought this would be the case.

Luckily, he had a key and let himself in. He looked up towards the staircase. The place felt abandoned with the smell of cigarettes and it was dark.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft called. "Sherlock!"

He slowly made his way up the stairs, his nose wrinkling at the smell and the state of the flat.

Mycroft made his way into the bedroom of his younger brother and as he predicted, there was Sherlock lying on the bed, pale and clammy and eyes closed.

Empty cigarette packets, smoked fags and empty syringes littered the floor.

Mycroft rushed over to his little brother, taking his pulse.

"Sherlock, can you hear me?" Mycroft said, loudly.

Mycroft gently slapped his face.

"Sherlock!"

Sherlock groaned.

"Sherlock where the hell is Clara?!" Mycroft asked, urgently.

"Cl'ra?" he said. "…Cla…"

"Yes! Clara, your daughter, where is she?"

"Cl'ra" said Sherlock, before slipping into unconsciousness.

Mycroft swore before calling an ambulance, he then rushed around the house looking for his niece.

"Clara!" he called. "Clara!"

He rushed into the dark, smelly Living Room.

"Clara" he whispered.

He was something move in the corner.

He slowly made his way over.

"Clara?" he said, uncertainly.

The four- year old with red, curly hair was crouched in the corner, eyes wide in terror. Her denim overalls were dirt and her white shirt had a grey tinge to it, even her bare feet were covered in dirt.

Mycroft crouched down next to her.

"Clara?" said Mycroft, quietly. "It's me, it's Uncle Mycroft"

"What's wrong with Daddy?" asked Clara.

"He's not very well at the moment" said Mycroft. "Anthea is going to come up and get you and take you to my house"

"What about Mummy? When is Mummy coming back?" asked Clara.

Mycroft swallowed thickly, thinking about how he was going to answer the delicate question.

"I'm not sure when your Mummy is coming back" he said. "But not for a while yet"

"She isn't coming back is she?" asked Clara.

Mycroft didn't know what to say this was coming from a four-year old who lost her mum last year and was about to be taken away from her dad.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that" said Mycroft. "All you have to do is remember her and before you know it she'll be back"

Clara nodded. "Is Daddy cross with me? He shouted at me"

"Did he hurt you?" asked Mycroft.

Clara shook her head.

"Sir?"

Mycroft looked round to see Anthea at the door.

Mycroft picked up the small four- year old.

"Anthea is going to wait with you downstairs, while I go help Daddy"

Anthea smiled at the little girl and took her hand.

"I'm going to stay with him at the Hospital, I'll call my parents, then I'll text you what happens after that, for the moment, take her to the Office and look after her" whispered Mycroft.

Anthea nodded.

"Come one, Clara" said Anthea, leading the girl out the room.

"My things" said Clara.

"I'll get them later" said Mycroft, keen to get his niece away and safely in the car.

Clara looked out the window as Anthea texted. Suddenly they were sirens and an Ambulance pulled up and Paramedics rushed upstairs.

"Anthea, why are there para-people here?"

"They're called _paramedics,_ Clara, para-people" said Anthea, not really thinking about what she was saying.

"Why are they here?"

Anthea looked up from her phone from realisation and looked at Clara. Clara looked scared.

"They've come for Daddy?"

Before Anthea could say anything Clara tried to bolt out the car.

"Clara!" exclaimed Anthea, for a moment forgetting that there was in fact a child lock.

Clara scrambled at the door.

Anthea held her tightly, stroking her hair.

"Clara its fine, its ok" she murmured.

"DADDY!" Clara screamed.

"Its ok" said Anthea."Can we go? Now please!"

Clara sobbed as the driver quickly started the car.

She settled into Anthea's arms, sobbing until she drifted off to sleep.

**NEW STORY! Thought I would since it's ma bday! **

**Please comment and review and leave suggestions (i.e Clara Lost or Clara sick) they will be featured if I can think of something to write. Next chapter is called ****_Allergic _****. Hope you like! **

**Eilidh x **


	3. 2 Allergic Reaction

"It's so hot!" exclaimed Clara.

The twelve year old pulled on her sunglasses out of her bag as she walked along the street.

"Sherlock, where are we going?" she asked.

"Crime scene" he replied.

"No shit Sherlock!" exclaimed Clara, sarcastically.

Sherlock scowled.

"I meant_ where_ is the crime scene" emphasised Clara.

"St. James's Park" said Sherlock.

"The weather's nice for it" said John.

"Yes I agree" said Clara. "The high temperature is perfect for the corpse to decompose quicker, causing a terrific stench and an attraction for flies"

"…Thanks for that Clara" John said, sarcastically.

Clara frowned in confusion.

They crossed the road and completely ignoring Donavan; ducked under the police tape.

"Hello" greeted Lestrade.

Sherlock didn't say anything.

Lestrade led them over to a huge Weeping Willow tree. By the trunk was a corpse of a man.

"The answer's no" said Sherlock as they approached the corpse.

"I didn't say anything!" exclaimed Anderson.

"Not you!" snapped Sherlock. "Clara!"

"_I_ didn't say anything" exclaimed Clara.

"You were going to" said Sherlock. "And the answer's no"

"You didn't know what I was going to ask"

"Can I climb that tree? The answer is no"

"Lucky guess" muttered Clara.

"Never guess" whispered Sherlock.

They stood by the body.

"Male. Fifty-three. Polish. Lived in London for twelve years. Wife and two kids…no… three kids" fired of Clara. "Cause of death- Ow!" She felt a sharp stabbing pain in her arm but there was nothing she could see.

"Shall I continue?" asked an impatient Sherlock.

"Yes. Do go on" said Clara, sarcastically.

She was annoyed at the fact that Sherlock was being a complete dickhead but then he always was. She was also annoyed at the fact that the heat was making her feel sick and faint and she struggled to breathe. She thought she was getting sunburnt on her arm.

Her upper arm began to twitch and burn. She looked down at it. There was a bite that was swelling, the arm around it pink and hot and twitchy.

Then it dawned on her. She'd been bitten.

She felt sick and faint and really was struggling to breathe. She couldn't feel her legs either.

"You ok?" asked John.

She looked up at Sherlock, John, Lestrade and Anderson.

Her mouth opened and closed several times.

"Clara?"

"… I've been bitten" she said, finally.

Her legs gave way, but as she fell, Sherlock managed to step forward and catch her, lowering her to the ground.

"Where?" asked Sherlock.

Clara raised her arm; Sherlock took one look at it before springing into action, John next to her.

"What does she mean?" Lestrade asked.

"Clara's allergic to insect bites and stings" explained John.

"Bit by a mosquito" said Sherlock, rummaging through Clara's Backpack.

Clara was gasping for breath.

"Just hang in there, Clara" soothed John, wondering what was taking Sherlock so long.

"Sherlock hurry up!" cried Clara.

"Ssh" said john, "You're fine"

John looked at Sherlock, who was shaking as he fumbled with the Epipen.

"Here" said John, gently. "Let me"

Sherlock gave John the case.

"Ok Clara-"

"Just do it!"

She winced as she felt the needle pierce into her thigh.

She breathed carefully, her eyes closed as she waited and counted the seconds the adrenalin would rush into her bloodstream and counteract the reaction.

Clara opened her eyes as she felt John remove the needle.

"Alright?" asked Sherlock, helping her to sit up.

"Yes" she said, shakily.

"Clara" said Lestrade. "Here"

"Thanks" replied Clara, as she took the bottle of water of him and drank thirstily.

"So it's Malaria?" asked Anderson.

Clara almost choked.

"Anderson, what have I said about lowering IQ of streets let alone Countries" said Sherlock.

"If I'm stupid what happened then?" asked Anderson.

"An allergic reaction" said Clara, not quite believing what she was hearing.

"Idiot" added Sherlock.

John went through Clara's kit for allergic reactions.

There was her EpiPen, anti-histamines, cream and bandages. John knew what each and everyone was for.

"Clara take one of these" he said, placing an anti-histamine into her trembling hand.

"How you feeling?" asked John, as she took the pill.

"Er…" thought Clara. "A little shaken"

"It's the adrenalin" explained John.

"I know" she smiled.

"Let's see your arm" said John.

He gently put his hand on the bite, which was still swollen and hot.

He then rubbed cream on the bite.

"That feels nice" smiled Clara, as the thick cold cream touched her hot, sore bite.

John smiled.

He wrapped a thin bandage over the thick layer of cream, pressing it to the wound. He tied it together with a knot and admired his handiwork.

"Thanks" said Clara.

"No problem" said John.

"Shall I take her home?" Lestrade asked. "I've got the car"

"No it's ok" said Sherlock. "Five minutes"

"I'd say three" said Clara.

Sherlock smiled. "Alright then"

Sherlock then proceeded to tell Lestrade and Anderson how the man was actually not murdered but was in an accident, the whole time Anderson had his mouth open.

Sherlock finished within three minutes just as Clara predicted.

"Clara can you walk?" he asked.

Clara nodded.

"Good. Let's go" he said, striding off, leaving John to help Clara.

He guided Clara across the crime scene, leaving a bewildered looking Lestrade and Anderson.

"Shall we get Ice Cream?" Sherlock asked, as John and Clara caught up with him.

"Ice cream?" repeated John.

"Yes. Ice cream. Why not?" asked Sherlock.

"Ice cream sounds good to me" said Clara.

"Good" said Sherlock. "The owner of the van always gives me large ones"

"Murder charge?" asked John.

"Nope found his dog" said Sherlock.

**Hiya! **

**NEW CHAPTER! **

**I only got one suggestion - which is currently under way and is being written. Please leave comments and suggestions and reviews! **

**Hope you enjoyed! **

**Ex**


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